Where Are They Now?
by ryannoels18
Summary: At the tender age of 16 Brittany gave birth to a beautiful little girl and made the decision to put her up for adoption. Sixteen years later Dylan Charlotte Green is searching for her birth parents.


**AN: I know I shouldn't be starting another story, but I was trying to finish up this project for school when this idea just hit me and I couldn't help, but get a few lines down which then turned into a chapter and now I have a beginning to a good story.**

**I hope I don't offend anybody who reads this chapter and if I do sorry :( but this character is who it's going to be and I cant and wont change that for anybody.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, because like any sane person in the world if I did then Santana and Brittany would be the main characters with a side of Rachel and Quinn and they would definitely spent most of their time naked and frolicking in the sun all while singing "Happy Days".**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Where are they?**

At the tender age of 16 Brittany gave birth to a beautiful little girl and made the decision to put her up for adoption. Sixteen years later Dylan Charlotte Green is searching for her birth parents. Will her search unite two long lost loves and maybe a family?

**Chapter One: Where are they?**

For all my life I had been nothing but an outsider. I didn't fit in with any of the kids at school or my neighborhood. I didn't even fit in with my own family…which should have been the first sign now looking back on it.

My family was probably one of the most uptight uber-rligious people out there. My mother was your typical stay at home mother who cleaned, cooked, and took care of the kids all while managing to keep up the perfect updo and look no younger than thirty five.

My father was your hardworking man who worked a nine to five job as an accountant and then came home to be the perfect father. He was a conservative man that prayed about everything and anything. He was always preaching on about God and church even if we were in church and the preacher was standing right in front of him.

My brother who was two years older than me was your all American son who would ask a girl's father if he could court her and wouldn't dare to kiss her or even touch her without consent from her parents. He made straight A's, quarterback for the football team, and president of the celibacy club. He was the dream son.

My sister who is actually the same age as me was just as perfect. She was your typically blonde haired blue eyed princess. She was your typical sweet little pink frilly dress princess who wore a purity ring and necklace and wouldn't kiss you even if it would save your life unless you put a ring on it. She was head cheerleader and president of the bible club and did I mention her being a straight-A student as well.

I on the other hand was not.

I was and still am your typical brooding teen that spent more years of my life outside the picture than in. I didn't like my family, and I'm pretty sure the neighbors and anyone else would agree with me.

For one, they had an extreme superiority complex. They thought anyone who didn't think, act, or behave like them was to be looked upon and pitied for they were living the life of the devil.

For two, they were constantly preaching the word of god everywhere and anywhere they went. I mean I loved Jesus just as the next person, but I didn't need to be reminded how great he is while shopping at the grocery store or in the drive-thru trying to order a hamburger with fries.

For three, they were just plain boring. They never wanted to do anything fun…well they never wanted to do anything fun that sane person would do. Their type of fun consisted of going to church or bible camp and singing kumbaya around a camp fire all while stuffing your face with Jesus loves you cookies.

For four, they thought everything could be solved with a prayer. I pray just as much as the next person as long as the next person is not my family, but even I know when to get off my knees.

For five, they spent more time in the church then the pastor did and that 'they' included me as well. Sometimes I just wanted to hang out with friends or go to the movies, but why do that when I can spend every day of the week in church singing every Christian song known to man.

For six, everything that didn't fit their perfect bubble was the 'devil' in their world. I wasn't allowed to listen to any music unless it was Christian, I couldn't wear anything other than a knee length skirt and a nice blouse preferly pink or pink. I couldn't read any book, but the bible. I couldn't watch any show unless it was related to god.

I wasn't in Christian hell in my opinion.

So like any other teen that was placed under these depressing conditions I rebelled. I snuck out whenever I could to hang out with friends. I would fake cramps or a stomach ache whenever it was time for church and act like I had the flu when it came to bible camp. Of course like the uptight people they were they believed every word I said.

Which I definitely didn't mind. I wasn't the all American head cheerleader with a purity ring. No, I was the rebel without a fucking cause.

I smoked, drank, partied, and had sex with every girl I could lay my eyes and fingers on. Of course I made sure my parents didn't find out.

If there was one thing my parents and siblings hated most in the world other than atheists it was gay people. They thought being gay was a disease and weren't afraid to tell any gay person they saw that they were infected and only god can would be able to save them.

Oh, and lets not forget about the constant pamphlets they handed out at the local gay clubs. Them and other bible thumpers would stand outside picketing the joint all while sprouting words of hate at anyone who dared to go in or come out. If only they would put up their bibles and walk in the place they would clearly see their underage daughter charming the pants off of every girl in sight.

Practically everyone knew what I did and who I did, but no one dared to tell my parents. Honestly because no one in the neighborhood really liked my family and I couldn't blame them.

The whole neighborhood considered them to be nothing but religious assholes that did nothing but bore everyone in sight. I mean what else you call anyone who told a six year girl that she was going to hell because she innocently played house with her best friend who just happened to be a girl.

Even at school people tend to stray away from my siblings unless you were apart of their bible worshipping celibacy club. Especially the science teachers who hated them because any time they would try to teach evolution instead of revolution they would go on religious rant calling them devil worshippers and anyone else who dare to copy the notes.

I on the other didn't care what the teacher taught. I spent most of my days in the back of the classroom sleeping or texting to listen anyway. Oh, another thing that made me different from my oh so perfect siblings was I was a straight D student and I spent more time smoking in the back of the school then I did in class, but no one really needed to know that.

But what really made me start questioning if I belonged to this uptight family were my looks. Both of my parents were blonde haired blue humans with skin so pale that they defined the word white.

I on the other hand was not.

I was dark tanned almost a light caramel color with long black hair and light brown eyes. I almost looked like my family's gardener then I did my actually parents. I was literally the black sheep of the family which was shown in some of the talents that I had.

No one in my family could dance not or keep a beat. They couldn't even clap their hands in rhythm, but dancing almost came natural to me where given any beat or song I could dance like it was made for me.

I also had quite the temper which was weird given that my parents were all about love and joy except when it came to devil worshippers and even then they would usually apologize or smile at them before they left. I on the other hand was a foul mouth, dope smoking, ass shaking, kick your ass if you dare to open your mouth the wrong way at me type of girl.

I also happened to be quite the linguist when it came to insulting somebody or giving a girl the proper tonguing. I mean I know it may sound like all this was just some excuse for my parents to not be my parents, but all this shit adds up. Right?

And its not jus the looks or attitude that sets me apart from my family. It the fact that when I look in the family photo book I see countless pictures of my brother and sister from the first minute they were born and the closest one that got of me was at my birthday party when I was three years old. I mean how do you explain that?

You can't because it doesn't make sense for my siblings to be so photogenic right before they came out of my 'mom', and then for me to not grace the book until I was three years old and covered in chocolate icing.

So I did some more digging. I snuck up in the attic where I knew they kept all our old things and started to look around. In the back of the attic covered old quilts and blankets was a black trunk. Being the curious girl I was I immediately set my attention on that seeing as everything else in the attic almost looked brand new and organized while this was covered in raggedy sheets and pushed all the way in the back to collect dust and god knows what else.

I tried to open the trunk but couldn't get through the look. So I did the only thing I could. I went back downstairs to the garage grabbed the bolt cutters and broke the lock my damn self quickly opening it up to see what was it.

Seeing as the trunk was hidden underneath some old sheets and blankets I was surprised to find nothing but old papers and documents in it instead of bars of gold, or a murder weapon that would point my parents to being number one suspects in a cold case homicide like I thought would be in it.

But since I went through all the trouble to get to the inside of the trunk I wasn't going to just walk away after all there could have been a gun or knife hidden underneath all those paper.

So I rifled through tax papers, old drawings that me and my siblings did as kids, old mail, newspapers and coupons until I came upon a single black file that was idly at the very bottom of the large trunk. I couldn't understand while just one file was in the trunk anyway seeing how everything else was just thrown in like old news.

So I opened the file up and began to read what was in it. It didn't it take me long to sort through all the legal mumbo jumbo to figure out what I was actually reading and what it all meant.

One of the last documents in the file was the most important document. It was the adoption papers for one Dylan Charlotte Lopez, and since I being Dylan Charlotte Green knew exactly who they belonged too.

If this didn't prove that my parents weren't my 'parents' then I don't know what did. I mean there was no disputing a legalize doctrine with my parents name on it with mine at the bottom with adoption big as day on it.

So that's how I found out I was adopted. Which really didn't bother me at all.

I mean I know when kids usually find out their adoptive they start to question everything they ever known about their life and feel depressed, but I was far from feeling depressed or sad.

I couldn't help but feel some sort of strange sense of relief. I knew from a young age that I didn't fit in with my family, and now that I had proof I couldn't help but feel elated in someway.

I know that some people don't have such great parents when it comes to adoption and I should be lucky to have any parents at all, but then again I never asked those people for their opinion so they can just shut up!

Sure Bill and Judy weren't the worst parents, but they weren't the best either. They were always to controlling and to uptight to have kids especially three of them.

I hated growing up and listening to all the other kids talk about their favorite cartoons, movies, toys and games. I hated watching my friends eat their Twinkies and pudding cups while all I had was carrot sticks and celery because it was healthy and god wanted me to be healthy.

I always wanted to be the normal kid that got to watch television and stay up watching scary movies only to wake up in the middle of night scared and crying out for my mom. I always wanted to be the kid that bragged about going to Disney world or the water park not bible camp and Jesus day in the park. I wanted to be the kid that got to spend the night over friend's house where I can pig out on junk food and have pillow fights. I wanted to be the kid who got to play sports or run around the neighborhood playing hide and go seek instead of watching all the others kids do so.

So yeah to me finding out I was adoptive was a good thing, because it meant that maybe my real parents would have actually let me do those things I wanted to do and still do now.

I dream of not the perfect parents, but at least parents who didn't pretend to be perfect. I dream of a kick ass dad who took no bullshit from anybody and a cool mom who was always there for me, but not afraid to chew my ass out when needed to be.

I dreamed of a dad who loved watching sports and drinking beer. I dream of a mom who would shout at him to get his lazy ass off the couch and help with dinner' all with a large smile on her face because they both knew she did it out of love.

I dreamed of a house that didn't smell like popuri and bleach and filled with expensive figurines. I dreamed of a house that was slightly messy because it was lived in and filled with love and laughter.

I wanted a mom and dad who wouldn't care if I was straight, gay, transsexual, bisexual, or any other sexual because they loved me. I dreamed that if I wanted to go out they would say 'don't get pregnant' before utilizing their alone time.

I wanted those parents and I was going to find them.

I realized something. My parents may have raised me to be the perfect specimen of a good Christian girl, but they never took the time to get to know me. The only cared if I fit their perfect image of a wholesome girl and that may have been good for my siblings, but it wasn't for me.

I needed to find my birth parents. I need to know who I really was and maybe who I can become because if there was one thing I knew it was that I wasn't a Green and I didn't want to be a Green.

In fact from what my adoptive records say I was born Dylan Charlotte Lopez and my parents and not Dylan Charlotte Green like I've been writing on the top of paper for the past years.

So I left. I grabbed my clothes (not the pink dresses) and all my close personal items, all the money in my dad's wallet, mom's purse, and the savings tin at the top of the refrigerator and I left without a goodbye or a see-ya.

I snuck out of my house in the middle of night leaving the place I had called home or hell-hole depending on the day for the past sixteen years and went looking for the place I belonged.

With my real parents.

I'm going to find my mom and dad even if it's the last thing I do.

The only thing I have to find out now is where are they? And were they looking for me as well?

**AN: So writing the disclaimer I was hit with another great idea for a Brittana story. I was thinking of writing a sort of 'The L Word' inspired story with Brittany and Santana as well as Rachel and Quinn, and some OC characters thrown in because to be honest I really can't picture any of the other glee girls to be lesbians…or maybe I don't want too.**

**Anyway REVIEW and tell me what you think! About the story I just wrote, and maybe about the one I plan to write…when I finish all my other stories.**

**THANK YOU!**


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